


I Tried to Write Your Name in the Rain (But the Rain Never Came)

by coffeewithsunshine



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, One Shot, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-29 04:56:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeewithsunshine/pseuds/coffeewithsunshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of one shots that won't leave my head until they're written. Inspired by either pictures or songs. All Olicity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> First off, if you read my other fic, I promise I have not abandoned it. October has just been a crazy month for me, and I've been struggling with writer's block. But, I'm trying to overcome it. In the meantime, here are some drabbles I've been writing over the past few months. I thought I'd post them up for you. 
> 
> Also, most of these are super short. I'll keep adding onto here as inspiration strikes.

** **

 

He puts his hand out of the window, before the train takes off. He knows this isn’t “good-bye forever.” Yet, he can’t shake the immense sadness he feels. They’ll meet up again; once everything is settled. Once she can tie up all the last loose ends. Then, she’ll make her way across the world to find him. They’ll meet up at the Arc de Triomphe at sunset on August 10th. He just has to make it without her until then. He touches her hand. A reassurance of the promises they’ve made to each other. He sees a single tear begin to stream down her cheek. He smiles at her, an attempt to both stop the tears threatening to come out of his eyes and hers. With one last smile from her and a mouthed, “I love you,” she turns to leave, still holding his hand until she’s too far away. He watches her leave and closes his eyes. He reminds himself, “It’s only a few more weeks,” and then, they’ll have the rest of their lives together. The rest of their lives to see each other’s smiles, wake up in each other’s arms, and explore the world together. Those thoughts bring him peace for the time being. He’ll make it. For her, he would do anything. Soon, their forever will begin.


	2. Nothing I Wouldn't Do.

** **

She feels like she hasn’t slept since they brought Tommy home. It’s been a whirlwind of 3 AM feedings and diaper changes. And sometimes, just plainly holding. Because apparently their son is already a social butterfly and doesn’t enjoy being left alone in his crib.

She doesn’t know what she would do if she didn’t have Oliver. He has been a constant rock for her. Encouraging her. Always awake when she’s awake. Taking over for her in the moments where Tommy just doesn’t want to stop crying.

She knows he’s noticed the tears in her eyes at the fact that she’s struggling with motherhood. She had thoroughly read all the books. She had read up on every new mother’s blog she could find. She was prepared. But all that reading, all that studying, hadn’t prepared her for what it really had been.

When she wakes up, there’s light streaming through the windows. She briefly wonders what time it is; what day it is. Because these days, she just doesn’t know anymore. She wonders why most of those mom’s blogs didn’t prep her for this part of motherhood.

She feels relaxed and fully rested for the first time since they brought their son home. She sits up in bed, looking over to her nightstand, looking for the monitor to their son’s bedroom. She freaks out momentarily at the fact it’s not there. She looks to the other side of the bed and finds it empty. She removes the covers and gets up, heading out of the bedroom, in search of her husband.

As she moves down the hallway, she catches a sight that leaves her breathless. Standing right outside Tommy’s bedroom, leaning against the doorframe, is Oliver, holding Tommy in the most precious way. He is cradling Tommy’s tiny body with both hands, softly kissing his forehead.

And that sight, makes all the sleepless nights, all the stress, all the inadequacy feelings, worth it.

Oliver looks up and offers her a smile. “Hey, he started crying and I didn’t want to wake you. I thought you could use the sleep.”

She makes her way over to her two boys. She takes turns kissing Tommy on his forehead and Oliver on his lips. She leans her forehead against Oliver’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” she whispers, hoping he’ll read the gratitude in her words for everything he’s done in the past few weeks.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. For either of you.”


	3. The Dress

** **

They attend a fundraising event in the evening for his campaign. She decides to wear a black dress, ending mid-thigh. She wears a dress has a bateau neckline, so she doesn’t drag attention away from him. The plunging backside, ending right about the curve of her ass, however is a different story. She’ll feign innocence in having picked out the dress, but knowing it was to get a reaction out of him.

He spends the entire evening with his hands on her back. He alternates between resting it in the middle of her back and on her lower back. Even when they are away from each other, both schmoozing potential donors, she can feel his gaze on her, from across the room. A yearning begins to build up inside her, one that is never completely satisfied when it comes to Oliver.

Seated at dinner, she plays with the stem of her wine glass. Sitting next to her, he leans in to give the side of her forehead a kiss, causing a smile to form at her lips, the same one that always makes its way around him. However, this kiss comes with his hand slyly making its way up her thigh, where her dress ends. The fire inside her begins to burn brighter. She feels a moan threatening to come out of her lips, but she clamps on tongue to make sure it doesn’t. He continues to draw circles on her inner thigh, falling dangerously close to where she really wants him. She really doesn’t know how she’ll make it the rest of the night, but somehow it passes in a blur. They wait for their limo, tension surrounding them in the open air.

As soon as they get into the limo, all bets are off. He kisses her fiercely, hands digging into her curls. She returns the kiss just as fervently, her hands making their way to his broad shoulders. Thankfully, the partition is up, assuring them they’ll have some privacy. His hands make their way down her sides, landing on the curve of her hips, bringing her closer to him, until she’s straddling him.

They break apart for breath, and all that fills the car is their heavy pants. He looks up at her, eyes full of love, and says, “As much as I like this dress on you, I much rather see it on the floor of our bedroom.”

When they finally arrive home, she has no objections.


	4. For a Second.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "Wildest Dreams."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to "Wildest Dreams" on repeat, because that's just a damn good song, and this came to my head. And it would not leave.

** **

 

For a second it’s just them. She only pictures them. Caught in the moment. She forgets about the world, because right now, he’s the only one that matters. Everything else is pushed aside for the feel of him against her. The feel of his lips against her neck, driving her insane. Pushing her higher and higher.

For a second she doesn’t think about all the reasons they shouldn’t happen. She doesn’t think about all the ways in which it is wrong. But instead focuses on the feeling of his hands as they make their way down her side, to land on her hips, gripping them tightly and bring her closer to him.

For a second she doesn’t think about all the implications of this. Instead she chooses to focus of the ache he creates inside of her, the ache that lives deep in her belly. The part that constantly feels on fire when he is near. For a second she allows herself to get lost in the fantasy of them. She allows herself to think of a life they could’ve had. Of quiet dreams she’s kept to herself. Quiet dreams she’ll continue to keep to herself. Because the two of them? It’s unthinkable.

But at least they’ll have this. Ingrained in their memories forever. She’ll always have the memory of him. She’ll always remember what he tasted like. The feeling of him inside her. The feeling of their bodies entwined in the most intimate of ways as they both reach the edge and fall over together.

For a second she allows all of this to go through her mind, because before she knows it, it’s gone.

******  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I have for now. I have another one that I started writing yesterday. I might finish that today and post it. And, hopefully work on Unexpected!


	5. Drive.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Halsey's "Drive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. (: So I started writing this one on Halloween... but just finished it last night. I just barely glanced at it, so any mistakes are mine.

They drive. They've been doing it since they were 16. It's always helped them avoid the reality of their lives. Oliver with both of his parents' cheating; Felicity with her single mom, who still mourns the loss of Felicity's father. They don't talk. They don't need to. They just drive. And that's enough.

They drive through the city, taking in Starling City at night. Sometimes they drive through deserted back roads, with the windows down, letting the wind hit them in the face. Felicity loves this the most, because Oliver has a convertible. With the top down, she sits up on the seat, throwing her arms in the air, her hair flowing in the wind. She smiles, and Oliver swears he's never seen anything more beautiful. They still don't talk. They don't need to.

However, one night, everything changes. After picking her up, Felicity breaks down in the passenger seat, having just had a fight with her mom, and he doesn't know what to do. Sobs wrack through her tiny frame, and he's at a loss. He feels like he should say something, but he doesn't. Instead he pulls on to the side of one the back roads. He turns off the lights and moves closer to her. He bands his arm around her and pulls her into him, guiding her head onto his shoulder. She responds and pretty soon he can feel her tears soak through his shirt, but he doesn't care. He just wants to make her few better. Finally, she stops and looks up at him. He feels her looking at him in a new light. He can see the shift in her eyes.

They don't talk. They don't need to. Because he's pretty sure she feels the exact same thing he's feeling right now. They stare at each other for a second longer before she tentatively moves her head closer to him, giving him the option to pull back. He doesn't. In the next breath her lips are on his lips. And it's unlike anything he's ever felt before. He's known since he was ten years old that he was in love with her. He grabs the nape of her neck and pulls her closer to him. She takes that and shifts around, straddling him. She bands her arms around him. They’re a mess of teeth clashing, both pulling at each other in an attempt to get closer. Both of them begin to pull at each other’s clothes, crossing a line from which they won’t be able to go back. He pulls away, giving them a break to catch their breath, and asks her quietly if she’s sure she wants this. She looks at him with so much love in her eyes, and whispers that she’s wanted this for a long time. And, that’s all the answer that he needs. They still don’t talk. But instead of the quiet humming of the engine, there’s heavy breathing and moans throughout the small space of the vehicle. It’s a night they’ll never forget.

Ten years later, they’re driving the back roads again. Still in a convertible. Still with Oliver at the wheel and Felicity sitting on the back of the front seat. However, this time around there’s two shiny platinum rings on her left ring finger, and one on his left ring finger, showing the world they belong to each other. This time around there’s a two year old girl in the back giggling from her car seat in the back. Excitedly clapping her tiny little hands as she watches her mommy rise up on the seat, lifting her arms in the air, with the wind blowing her hair everywhere; it’s a move she’s perfectly maneuvered since Oliver first got his driver’s license. Before it was just the two of them. Two lost kids from broken families. Now there’s three of them, soon to be four--but that’s a surprise she’s waiting to tell Oliver tonight at their anniversary dinner.

They still drive. They still don’t talk. They don't need to. But this time it’s because there’s no pain. This time there's smiles and laughter involved. They have their own family now, both promising not to raise their daughter up with the heartache they had. They found their happiness in each other. And, that’s the way it will be forever. 


	6. Heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just came out of nowhere. It's meant to be dark and gritty, describing a very dysfunctional relationship. I had to change the rating because of this chapter. So be forewarned, this contains smut.
> 
> This was inspired by "Heartbeat" by Childish Gambino. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFVxGRekRSg

It’s Wednesday night when he sees the post on her “Wall.” He’s sitting in his bed wearing pajama pants, shirtless, on his computer. He knows it’s pathetic. Looking up his ex on social media. But, he sees that post from another guy on her Facebook page and it sets him off. Before he can begin to think logically, he gets dressed. He’s out the door within ten minutes and heads over to her apartment, not caring that it’s eleven o’clock at night. He knows she’ll be there. He knows she'll be awake. Because he knows her schedule. He still remembers it. And, a part of him knows he shouldn’t do this. He knows it’s not right. He knows he doesn’t get to do this anymore, but he can't stop himself. He’s never been able to when it comes to her.

 

It takes twenty minutes before he finds himself knocking at her door. When she opens it, the first thing out of his mouth is, “Are you fucking him?”

 

Her eyes widen at the question, before they close off and shift into an angry glare. “ _Screw_ _you_ , Oliver. You don’t get to come to my home and ask me that.”

 

She walks away from the door, but leaves it open. And he knows, that it’s just as difficult for her to stay away, as it is for him. He walks into the apartment, slamming the door closed behind him. He catches up to her in a few strides. His longer legs being able to cover more ground than her short ones. He grabs her by the elbow and turns her around so she’s facing him.

 

“Are you?” he asks again, louder.

 

He can see the fire in her eyes. “So, what if I am?” she challenges him. “It’d be none of your business. We’re not together Oliver. We haven’t been for a while. I can fuck whoever the hell I want. I’m not yours.”

 

That’s his undoing. Before he can think any better of it, he grabs the back of her neck and forcibly kisses her. She stands immobile for a second, before she shoves at his chest, pulling away from him. She brings her right hand up and slaps him across the face. **_Hard_ **.

 

They stare at each other for a few seconds. Neither of them moving, but both of their breaths heavy. The air is electric around them. It always has been. Chemistry has never been their problem, it’s all the other shit.

 

Felicity is the first to move. She grabs his face and pulls him to her, their lips crashing together in a mess of teeth and tongues. Oliver moves in the next second. He grabs her hips and pulls her against him, molding her into him. Her fingers find their way to the back of his neck, bringing him impossibly closer. He walks them backwards until her back hits the wall. Their kisses aren’t sweet. Not like they used to be. They’re violent and bruising. They pull away from each other to catch their breath. He stares into her eyes and he sees her closing off from him. He kisses the spot below her ear he knows gets to her, before she can put a stop to this. Because he needs her. He doesn’t care that it’s selfish.

 

 _He needs her_.

 

It causes a moan to fall from her lips, and it only eggs him on. He moves his lips further down her neck, until he hits the spot where her neck and shoulder meet, and he takes his time leaving his mark there. Because, he wants everyone to know she’s his. No one else’s.

 

He hands find their way to her ass. Her fantastic ass. One of the first things he remembers noticing on her. He kneads it, in sync with his lips on her. She wraps her arms tighter around him in response. She pulls him closer to her. And he knows she feels the same desire that he does. It’s impossible to deny the fire they have together. His hands move back to her hips, and begin to pull down her sleep shorts, along with her panties, both falling on the floor. Her own move to unbuckle his jeans, pushing them down.

 

He lets out a curse when he feels her cupping him through his boxers. Just like he knows all of her spots, she knows all of his. She knows him better than anyone. He thrusts into her hand, needing some form of friction. _Needing her_. Deciding he needs this to move faster, he cups the back of her thighs, lifting her up in the next second. She instantly wraps her legs around him and he pushes her into the wall, thrusting into her, right where they both need to be, separated by the thin fabric of his boxers. He’s incredibly hard, but only for her. Just her. And, he needs to be inside her within the next few seconds, or else… he doesn’t know. All he knows is that he needs her. She moans at the feel of him on her center and throws her head back, hitting the wall.

 

“Oliver,” she breaths out. It’s a plea. But, it’s also more.

 

And he knows. He knows. He feels the same way.

 

She finally pulls down his boxers, moving them out of the way. Then, he lines himself up with her entrance. He holds the back of her neck, guiding her to look at him, because he needs her to see him when he enters her. She responds and looks at him, but all he sees reflected is hatred. He thinks back to when there was nothing but love for him in her eyes. Now, this is all there is. But, he doesn’t care. He’ll take it. Because his desire for her is like a fire he can’t quench. No matter how destructive they are, no matter how often they decide to stay away from each other, they can’t stop.

 

He fills her to the hilt in one thrust, because this isn’t love making; it’s fucking. It’s not sweet, it’s rough. Her eyes close, her mouth forms an “O,” and he begins to move, fast. He doesn’t give her time to adjust to him. He brings his mouth back to hers and kisses her, matching up to his thrusts. She’s so tight and so wet. It gives him a high knowing her body still responds to him. He doesn’t speak, because he doesn’t want to ruin it. She hates him enough as it is, and he doesn’t want to give her any more reason to hate him more. It’s easier for them this way.

 

She starts fluttering around him, and he knows she’s close. But, he needs her to come _now_. It could be considered generous that he’s making sure she comes at all, but even that is for selfish reasons. He wants to know that he’s the one making her come. He wants to be the only one bringing her to the edge. He continues to thrust into her and brings one hand down to rub her clit. He pinches it between her fingers, bringing out a string of curses to come out of her mouth. And, then she’s there. He continues to thrust into her as she reaches her climax, a silent gasp coming from her lips. He pushes her through it, searching for his own release. Her muscles squeeze him hard and he comes, her name tumbling from his lips. His head sags against her shoulder.

 

They take a couple of minutes to even out their breathing. They don’t look at each other. It’s too hard. So many things unsaid between them that they can’t say. When his breathing is back to normal, he pulls out of her, and reaches down to pull up his boxers and pants. He looks at her and finds tears streaming down her cheek.

 

“Felicity,” he whispers.

 

She turns away from him. “Don’t.” She wipes the tears with both hands. “Just leave.” She bends down to pick up her clothes from the floor, only bothering to put on her shorts. She stays leaning against the wall, avoiding his eyes.

 

When he’s dressed, he moves towards the door and opens it. He takes a step out, but stays in the doorway, looking back at her for a second. Because he knows as soon as he leaves, she’ll take a shower to rid herself of him. He knows afterwards she’ll curl up into a ball on her bed and cry herself to sleep. He leaves, closing the door behind him.

  
Fight, fuck, repeat. That’s how it’s always been between them.


End file.
